Attack of the Beavecoons
by abracadabra94
Summary: When Spencer hears a loud noise late at night, he is sure that the beavecoons have come to attack. But is what's going on outside his apartment door merely an army of psychotic mutants, or something even stranger? Seddie, from Spencer's POV.


**I really don't know where this came from. I mean, when I got the idea for the basic plot a few days ago, it was relatively normal. How the psychotic beavecoons made their way into the story, I'll never know. Much less how they got such a prominent role. But it does reemphasize my theory that I am, in fact, crazy. I never even knew it was possible to have a fic be both humor and hurt/comfort, but apparently it comes easily to my clearly diseased mind. Oh well. I hope you like it anyway.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly...or a beavecoon...or the universe.**

"_Come, Spencer!" said the blue beavecoon, his beady, black eyes shining. "Join us!"_

"_No! I won't help you in your quest for world domination! You can't make me!"_

"_Silly Spencer," said the green one, "we don't want world domination."_

"_You don't?" I said, letting go of my cannon._

"_Of course not," the pink beaver-raccoon hybrid assured. "We want domination over the entire universe! Mwahaha!"_

_Just then, all the beavecoons started growing to a monster-size, all laughing maniacally. Their furry tails became spiky and their shiny black eyes turned bright red._

"_I'LL NEVER LET YOU TAKE OVER THE UNIVERSE, YOU BUCKTOOTHED, RINGTAILED FREAKS OF NATURE!" I grabbed my cannon and lit it, but I may have been too late. The beavecoons were advancing fast, growing larger by the second, and my cannon was taking an unusually long time to fire._

"_COME ON YOU STUPID CANNON!" I said, and gave it a kick._

**_BANG!_**

I sat straight up, only to find myself in my bedroom.

"Am I dead?" I whispered. When no one answered, I figured that the evil beavecoons must have been a dream, and settled back under the covers.

**_BANG BANG BANG! _**

Okay, now I know I'm an idiot, but I'm not stupid, and even I know that I wasn't asleep again yet. There was no way that noise came from my dreams. That must mean…

"Oh no…the beavecoons are here!" I stumbled out of bed and grabbed the bat that was leaning against the wall, only to realize that it wasn't actually a bat, but a stick of salami. Eh, maybe the beavecoons wouldn't know the difference.

I walked into the living room and fumbled for the light switch. It was a good thing Carly was sleeping over at Wendy's house that night. I think I heard somewhere that attacks of mutant woodland creatures are scary for girls. Psh…babies.

I looked out the peephole, but then I remembered that I had accidentally gotten paint on it a few days before and it was no longer usable. Oh well, I just had to go outside and see for myself. I was getting ready to open the door and charge valiantly at the beavecoon army with my salami held high, when I heard another door open across the hall.

"What are you doing?" said a boy's voice. I stopped and put my ear against the door so I could hear better.

"What does it look like, Nub?" said another voice. "I'm trying to break down this door." That sounded like Sam. She must have been persuaded to join the beavecoon army, and now she was trying to help them out by breaking into apartments. It's so sad when people go to the furry mutant side.

"Why?" questioned the first voice.

"Because I need to see Carly and I forgot to bring a bobby pin to pick the lock."

"But Carly is at Wendy's sleepover tonight."

"Oh…right. I knew that. Why wasn't I invited to that again?"

"You were, remember? You said that you'd rather be eaten by sharks than go to some stupid slumber party."

"Oh yeah. Well, I guess I'll just be going now…"

"Wait!"

"What?"

"Is everything alright?"

"Everything's just fine, Dork. Now go back into your little apartment before your mommy gets worried and calls the police to come search for you."

"My mom is at an aggressive parenting conference in Fresno. She won't be back until tomorrow."

"And she's just going to let you stay here by yourself all night?"

"I convinced her to let me since Spencer is right across the hall."

"Well aren't you a big boy now?" There were footsteps that sounded like someone walking away.

"You seemed pretty desperate to talk to Carly," the boy's voice called.

The footsteps stopped. "Yeah, well. No big deal."

"You came all the way here at nearly one in the morning just to talk to your friend, and your eyes are all red and puffy. It doesn't seem like it's no big deal. Why don't you just tell me what's wrong?"

There was a pause, then a sigh, then footsteps again. But this time the footsteps were coming closer.

"It's my mom."

"What about your mom?"

"She…she doesn't care about me."

"I'm sure that's not tru…"

"SHE DOESN'T FUCKING CARE ABOUT ME BENSON! SHE NEVER EVEN WANTED ME!"

Another pause, another sigh.

"You're lucky you know…to have a mom that loves you."

"My mom's crazy…"

"But at least you know that she loves you and cares about you. I'd give anything for that. My mom is always telling me that I should be more like Melanie and less of a screw up, but I can't. I really hoped that when we started this therapy thing that things would get better. And they did…for a while. But now they're just as bad as ever again. Mom keeps saying that she's trying to be a good mother, but that it's too hard with a rotten daughter like me. I…I guess it's my fault for being such a lousy person. I've tried and tried to be a good daughter and to stop screwing up…but I can't do it. I just can't do it."

"Sam…Sam, are you crying?"

I heard a noise that sounded like a slap, and then it sounded like something fell to the floor. Then…silence.

"Oh my God," I said. "The beavecoons must have captured Sam and Freddie!" I got a tight hold on my salami bat, braced myself, and opened the door.

Instead of an army of rabid beavecoons holding a bunch of unconscious teenagers hostage, I saw something even more shocking.

There, sitting on the floor outside of apartment 8D, was Sam Puckett. Strong, tough, rude, abrasive, bullyish Sam Puckett…crying in the arms of none other than her favorite victim, Freddie Benson. Freddie, who had a big red mark about the size of Sam's hand across his left cheek, sat next to her, cradling her as gently as if she were a small child and rubbing her back. There was no struggle; no hatred. They seemed to actually be _comfortable _with each other. Neither of them even noticed I was there.

I stood there for a moment more, making sure that my eyes weren't playing a trick on me and that I hadn't gone crazy. When the image didn't change to the beavecoon army I'd originally expected, I went back into my apartment, closed the door, and went to bed.

It had been a weird night.


End file.
